


fac simile

by capsize (copenhagenborn)



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dream Adam, M/M, Miscommunication, Ronan dreams an Adam, Self-Esteem Issues, That's it, self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 12:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11897889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copenhagenborn/pseuds/capsize
Summary: Seeing as Ronan’s presence at Aglionby was almost as mercurial as Noah’s corporeality, Adam wouldn’t be surprised with Ronan’s lack of sleep.Which somehow must have resulted in Not-Adam.or, Adam does not care for dream-Adam, not one bit.





	fac simile

It’s late when Adam finally finishes the essay for his morning Spanish class.

The sun has gone down hours ago and there’s a strumming feeling in his stomach from the lack of food he’s been eating, but Ronan still hasn’t answered his texts and Gansey has already called three times asking whether Adam could go check on him because, “He’s not feeling well, Adam. I don’t like leaving him alone over longer periods. Can you please just do it? For me?”

And while Adam might be able to prioritize his studies over almost everything else, it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling in his chest when he has nothing else to occupy him.

So he drives to Monmouth Manufacturing and knocks until there’s a rumble inside and the door is being opened by someone with their back towards him.

“Please stop knocking, I’m coming!” The guy mutters quietly, his voice charming and oddly familiar before he turns around and faces Adam with a smile that quickly turns into a frown. Which, granted, Adam can understand seeing as the guy in front of him looks exactly like him. “ _Oh_.” The guy stumbles, long freckled fingers gripping the door frame as he stares at him in wonder.

Adam doesn’t reply, but he does push his way through the door and into the living room where Ronan is lying for once completely still in his sleep.

“Please don’t wake him, he hasn’t been sleeping right.” Not-Adam says as he crosses the room and kneels at Ronan’s head, strong hands carbon-copies to Adam’s gently stroking the short hairs on his head with soft motions, making sure not to disturb the resting bird on the arm of the couch.

It fits about right with the timeline Adam’s been working out in his head; Gansey left a week ago to join his mother’s campaign, leaving Ronan alone with Noah’s ever-changing appearance. Adam had been around a couple of times since then, but hadn’t been able to come over the last few days because of work, and seeing as Ronan’s presence at Aglionby was almost as mercurial as Noah’s corporeality, Adam wouldn’t be surprised with Ronan’s lack of sleep.

Which somehow must have resulted in Not-Adam.

“Can I get you anything? It might be while before he wakes.” The copy says easy as ever, smoothly rising to his full height and already on his way towards the kitchen as if he’s been living here longer than Adam.

“No,” Adam sneers and slides into Not-Adam’s spot, back against the couch so Ronan’s hand fall just beside his knee. “What does he even call you?” he asks after a while, when Not-Adam comes back with a can of coke and sits at the opposite arm of the couch from Chainsaw.

“Well, we didn’t really talk much.” He shrugs with a soft smile, “We woke up and he freaked out for a while, locked himself into his room, that silly boy. Then he came back out and told me to leave before falling back asleep. I’m afraid his dreams are getting worse, harder to control perhaps.”

Adam narrows his eyes, “And how would you know that?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious? His sleeping habits are worse, he doesn’t eat or drink anything other than things that are strictly bad for you, he hasn’t even been going to Latin and he loves that class.” Not-Adam lists off, counting on his fingers with an unfamiliar elegance Adam doesn’t recognize, “I would have thought you would have known that, seeing as we are supposed to be the same.” He adds as an afterthought, but his smile is too sharp, eyes too cunning for it to be entirely sincere.

“We are not the same.” Adam barks backs, but keeps his voice low. “You are not me. I am a living thing, I was _born_ and have been alive for 18 years, while you’re just a figment of his imagination. It doesn’t matter that we look the same.”

They both freeze as Ronan whines in his sleep and cups his hand around Adam’s knee, pulling him closer towards the couch before he finally relaxes back into his sleep.

Not-Adam raises his brow, “Are you saying Matthew isn’t real? That _Aurora_ isn’t? Because I’m pretty sure that would also make Ronan unreal, or at least half. Just because I wasn’t the product of sweet, sweet love making like yourself, doesn’t make me any less real.”

“You shut the fuck up about my parents! You have no right to talk about them.”

“Don’t you mean _our_ parents?” Not-Adam taunts, and that’s all it takes for Adam to pry himself out of Ronan’s grip and be across the room with an aching fist. But apparently Ronan liked Adam feisty and with a brilliant upper-cut, and Not-Adam isn’t pulling his punches when he hits back making Adam stumble into the coffee table.

Ronan finally wakes when Adam has Not-Adam straddled, fingers closed around his throat in a move mirrored on himself, Not-Adam’s legs kicking and trying to flip Adam off him. “What the hell is going on?” Ronan mumbles tiredly, but fights his way onto his elbows to surveil the room. “Adam?”

Not-Adam goes lax at that, dropping his hands and becoming almost pliant beneath Adam before turning towards Ronan with a soft smile, “Hey there, Lynch.” like he isn’t pinned beneath a carbon-copy who has their hands around his throat, “How was your nap?”

“Why are there two of you?” Ronan squints, holding out a hand to poke Adam as he struggles to his feet, “Is this a dream?”

Adam snorts, harshly, and pushes Not-Adam back into the floor before removing himself from the guy, “I think you’ve dreamt enough for a lifetime.”

He moves quickly and gathers the few things he had brought with him before slamming the door behind him and biking home.

“ _He_ _’_ _s alright_ ,” he sends off to Gansey, before turning the phone off and going to sleep.

 

Ronan drops by at the end of Adam’s trigonometry class.

He’s not wearing the uniform and he looks like hell has chewed him up and spit him out twice, but he’s there and he’s awake, a large cup of coffee in each hand as he leans against his car.

“Parrish! Over here.” He yells, raising a hand to wave as if Adam hadn’t spotted him the minute he walked out of the building. “I brought you coffee,” he offers, his voice a bit softer than the harsh edge he normally has, eyes a shade lighter and filled with something Adam doesn’t remember seeing before.

“Yeah, sorry Lynch but Adam here has promised to tutor me, so no dice.” Tad smirks from his place just behind Adam, a clammy hand trying to take a hold of his arm and stirring him towards his car. “I’m sure he’s going to be available tomorrow.” There’s a strange sense of possessiveness in Tad’s voice that surprises Adam, who had agreed to nothing but looking over his English paper, a job just as well done by himself as in Tad’s presence.

“’m coming in a sec, please get my bike from the rack, I have an early test in the morning.” Adam calls back with a wave before turning to a gaping Tad and wrenching himself out of his grip. “I’ll look over your paper and get back to you in two days, the latest.” He nods once, more for himself than for Tad’s sake, before taking off towards the BMW and the coffee Ronan’s left on the hood.

“I’m not doing this because of you,” he says quietly when Ronan slams the back of the car and finally slides into the passenger seat. Adam doesn’t look at him, but he knows he nods, staying quiet as Adam turns the key and pulls out of the lot before hitting the road.

There’s a split in the road, two ways back to Monmouth and Adam has only ever driven one of them. There’s the one going around the city, stopping by the church and the farm, lots of traffic lights and speed bumps that forces him to slow down and really pay attention to his driving; miles of nothing but road, Ronan and shitty music on Adam’s mind when he gets to drive.

But Adam doesn’t want to spend half an hour in a car with Ronan right now, so he turns right, through the city and gets them to Monmouth in almost record time.

Adam’s first through the door and doesn’t know what to expect when he enters the living room and watches Not-Adam set the table with actually homemade food on actual porcelain plates instead of the shitty paper ones Blue tries to ban every time she sees them.

There’s only two plates though, Adam notices with a suspicious look, staring Not-Adam down as he places another dish onto the small coffee table. 

“I didn’t know you were coming back with Ronan.” Not-Adam comments lightly, sitting down crossed legged on the long side of the table before he starts to fill the cups with what looks like alcohol. Adam’s eye twitches.

“What did you expect? I said I was going to pick him up, and what? Drive him home? Bullshit.” Ronan barks as he disappears into the kitchen and comes back with another set for Adam. “I brought you a coke,” he adds, throwing an angry look at Not-Adam’s empty bottle of jack. Not-Adam snorts, and Adam jerks miserably in return.

The food is better than anything Adam’s ever had, even those few times he had stayed at the Gansey mansion and their Michelin-awarded chef; and Not-Adam preens when Ronan reaches for another portion.

“So, am I entitled to an explanation or am I just supposed to roll with your newly acquired personal butler who looks entirely like me?”

Not-Adam snorts, but stays quiet as Ronan moves uncomfortably in his seat. “Well uh, as you’ve probably worked out, I had a dream. And you were in it, or he was in it – a version of you were in it, and we were uh, like touching, I guess? So when I woke up, I kind of brought him out with me.”

“It’s not that hard, Adam.” “Shut up.” Both of them echoes.

Adam pauses and pretends not to notice the flushness of Ronan’s cheeks, “And that’s great and all, but how do we get rid of him? What do we call him? Why does he act like a jerk?”

Ronan’s jaw flexes, watching Not-Adam’s smirk getting wider. “I don’t know to all three. I thought maybe one of you could be Adam and the other could be Parrish, but that’s dumb.”

“No, that’s a great idea, Ronan. I can be Adam and he can be Parrish,” Not-Adam smiles as he reaches out to squeeze Ronan’s shoulder, hand lingering when Ronan doesn’t immediately push him off.

“No. That is my name, I’m not going to let you take that too.” Adam states, firm as ever as he leans back against the couch, consciously distancing himself from the other two.

“Then I can be Parrish and you’ll be Adam. Last names are sexually loaded anyway.”

Adam doesn’t dignify that with a reply and instead choose to glare at the clone.

“You can’t both have your cake and eat it too, Adam. I would think you would know a thing or two about humility and not overreaching.” Not-Adam comments off-handedly, hand still lingering on Ronan before the latter starts to shake his shoulder in discomfort. “You can’t just call me Not-Adam the entire time I’m here. And don’t give me that look, I’m you, I know what you’re thinking.”

“It’s a perfectly fine name for someone like you,” Adam tells him blandly, watching with pleasure as the other’s eye twitches.

They can’t agree on anything, but Ronan needs a name and Adam isn’t going to be the one to give in, so they somehow decide on ‘Adam 1’ and ‘Adam 2’ which is as close to Not-Adam as they might come, so he’ll accept it.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Ronan asks later, when Not-Adam has disappeared back into the kitchen and they’ve somehow moved towards the door. “It’s late and the lights are sometimes tricky, or well, that’s what I’ve heard.” He shrugs carelessly, but he lingers just a bit too long on the darkness of Adam’s clothes, how a car would never see him coming, not knowing when to stop or slow down. It would have been sweet, if it wasn’t for the dreamt-up copy still stuck in the kitchen. So Adam shakes his head and slips out of the door, backpack slung over his shoulder and head heavy with frustration.

 

It’s Friday and somehow their afternoon Latin class is the only thing Adam has to go in for. He thinks about picking up an extra shift at Boyd’s, but Not-Adam is still a thing and won’t be going anywhere until they find out what to do with him.

So he patiently waits for Ronan to be scolded by yet another teacher before they get into the car together.

“What did Mr. Jackson want?” he asks, voice soft but not kind as Ronan takes a left instead of right and changes the channel to another one with shitty punk music he doesn’t really like.

“Nothing,” Ronan bites back as he speeds up the car just as he’s turning into another turn. “Something about my grades, whatever, they won’t do anything about it.” He shrugs like it doesn’t matter; doesn’t matter that his grades are slipping, or that he might be kicked out. All of it just doesn’t matter.

Adam twitches at that, clenches his fists at the sheer privilege of Ronan’s situation. But he keeps quiet, shuts his mouth and somehow tries to tame his temper because another conflict is not what their friendship needs right now.

“Gansey’s coming home soon,” Adam says instead and closes his eyes, leaning in to the turns instead of brazing himself like he used to do whenever Ronan drove too fast for comfort.

He only used to do it whenever Gansey was in the car, how he would worry and kick up a fuss because, “What about the children, Ronan? We aren’t alone on these roads you know.” And Adam would be in the backseat, eyes heavy with sleep and exhaustion trying to somehow ignore the two of them, only making noise whenever Ronan said something particularly outraged.

And then somehow it became their thing, Ronan in the driver’s seat with his foot heavy on the speeder, and Adam next to him, eyes halfway closed and ignoring all the things he usually hates about Ronan, because right here, right now, they sort of make him better in Adam’s eyes, and isn’t that a conundrum? 

“it would be great if Not-Adam were gone by then.”

Ronan snorts his agreement, but stays otherwise quiet.

“Do you want to talk about why he’s here?” Adam tries instead, watching dark fingers clenching on the wheel when he pushes another yellow and continues down the road, no signs of stopping or slowing down. “Do we need to?”

“No.” Ronan says with unparalleled firmness. “I dream things, sometimes they come alive. It’s not a big deal.” There’s frustration in his voice, something repressed and angry that Adam doesn’t want to dwell on but somehow feels like he has to.

“It’s not what you do, it’s what you _dream_.” Adam corrects, but then they’re pulling up at Monmouth and Ronan’s hurrying out of the BMW, leaving Adam in the proverbial dust.

 

Not-Adam’s there when he closes the door behind them, stretched out in front of the couch wearing what seems to be Ronan’s clothes; too dark and frayed to be Gansey’s and way too expensive to be something Adam had left lying around.

But he isn’t alone.

Blue’s sitting in one end of the couch, wearing a dress layered with a loose, yellow skirt and what used to be Gansey’s crew sweater cut short to her waist. She’s laughing and leaning back against the pillows, one hand in Not-Adam’s hair while the other tries to cover her mouth. She’s beautiful sitting there unknowing, careless and free, without a worry in the world. And all that because of someone who isn’t really him. It gives him a tight feeling in his stomach, not quite hurting but not at all pleasant.

Maybe it’s the tightness of the shirt or the way he’s lying, but now Adam notices the slightly more muscled shoulders Not-Adam have, arms with more definition, and legs longer than the originals making his pants seem too short; his cheekbones are sharper too and cheeks filled in in a way that doesn’t make him seem perpetually hungry.  

The differences are so subtle and delicate that Adam mustn’t have noticed them the other times, but standing at the edge of the room, overlooking him in a way that can never be objective but might be as close to it that Adam will come, he’s sure Not-Adam’s more attractive than he is; that _Ronan_ somehow had felt the need to make him better looking. 

Adam frowns and steps back, bumping into Ronan who steadies him safely and moves them towards the pair by the couch before letting him go.

There’s something hurting, but he doesn’t know what, doesn’t know whether it’s real or if the realization of his own looks somehow forced another chip to fall out of place of his otherwise so carefully held together version of himself.

“Hey Maggot, what the hell are you doing here?” Ronan yells, drawing him out of his thoughts ever so slowly corroding him from the inside.  

Blue turns in her seat with a scowl on her face, the smile on her lips slowly turning sour before noticing Adam in front of him. She gapes in disbelief as he turns from the pair to Not-Adam lying before the couch and then back before she utters a, “Oh, shit.”

Not-Adam turns with a grin and looks at Ronan briefly before focusing his eyes on Adam, “You’re back! I didn’t know when I should expect you, so I invited Blue over. I hope you don’t mind.”

Adam frowns at his abrasiveness, but otherwise ignores him.

“Please tell me you and Noah have come up with a new game, and that there isn’t two Adams in this room.” Blue says quietly, her head cradled in her hands.

“There isn’t,” “There is.” “Shut up, Adam 2.” Adam, Not-Adam and Ronan says in quick succession.

“He’s a dream thing, and he’s not really me.” Adam corrects with minimal bitterness in his voice, crossing the room with Ronan on his heels before settling down in the armchair. “But apparently he’s done a fine impression of it.”

Blue blushes and looks away once again, “Well, it’s, uh. You do look a lot alike, Adam.” She tries to apologize, moving away from the edge of the couch to further distance herself from the clone who’s still lying on the floor without a care in the world. “But then, you two – eh, three – should have probably told the rest of the group what you’ve been up to.” She adds as an afterthought, eyes narrowing.

“In our defense, we did think he would be gone by now.” Ronan shrugs and half-heartedly kicks Not-Adam in the shin, “Why don’t you take him home with you? They would probably love that,”

“I can actually hear you, Ronan.” Not-Adam hums, leaning in to the kick with a practiced ease Adam doesn’t want to think about. “And I’m quite fine right here, thank you. Gansey’s coming home soon, isn’t he? It would be a shame to miss him.”

The other three groan in perfect synchronization.

 

Gansey comes home on a Wednesday, eyes tired and body slouched as he walks through the door to Monmouth. “Hey Ronan, Adam, Blue, other Adam. I’m going to take a nap right now, and then we’ll talk tomorrow, right?” his speech is somehow still perfectly coherent as he stumbles through the living room with eyes almost shut and closes the door politely quiet behind him.

They all wait in silence until the soft snoring of Gansey sleeping starts, “Do you think he noticed?”

The others shrug, “He did acknowledge him, so kinda?” Blue says quietly, her voice unsure as her gaze flickers between the two boys.

They hadn’t talked much about it. There had been a brief conversation on their bike ride home, but neither felt comfortable talking about it and even then, Adam didn’t know what would have come of it; nothing Blue could have said would have put him more at ease.

“Have you made any progress on the subject of returning him?” she continues, apologetic eyes flickering to Not-Adam as she says it, but there’s firmness in her voice, resolution like she knows this is what’s supposed to be done.

“No.” Ronan grunts, sliding down to the ground besides Adam’s chair, Chainsaw flying in and resting on the arm of the chair, just outside of Adam’s reach, “It’s not like there is someone I can ask what to do with dream creation I don’t want anymore.”

Not-Adam frowns, but his funny comments have lessened over the days transitioning into something more like Adam’s usual passiveness. A fact that bothered Adam more than he liked to let on.

“Maybe you just have to reverse it.” Adam says softly, fingers reaching out to stroke the softness of Chainsaw’s neck making her craw gently at the same time Ronan leans back against his knee, eyes closed as he hums.

“Reverse what? You can’t just stuff him back into a dream. Where would he even go? Does he die, become un-made? Or will he live on inside Ronan’s head?” Blue asks critically.

“I don’t know but there might be something there.” Ronan agrees, leaning in to the way Adam shifts his legs to make him more comfortable. “Maybe Dick has a better idea.”

 

Gansey doesn’t join them for early morning Latin, but he’s there in World History looking nothing like he did the night before; his shirt is ironed and tucked, hair styled in his usual ridiculous fashion that somehow makes him look even better than what should be allowed, and wearing his chunky spare glasses he always wears after leaving behind his real ones at his parents’.

They don’t talk about it until they’re back at Monmouth once again, the three of them spread out amongst the sparse furniture whilst trying to avoid the cardboard boxes placed around the room as something bumps loudly in the hallway.

Gansey comes through the door just as Not-Adam makes his way into the living room; the two of them softly crashing into each other before Not-Adam reaches out to steady him.

"Oh my, Adam! That could certainly have gone terribly wrong," Gansey says with a stuttered laugh, his cheeks pink as he pushes his glasses back up before letting his hands rest back on Not-Adam's frame.  "Have you been working out?" He asks with a bright smile, squeezing he bicep he’s currently holding, "You are certainly bigger than last time I saw you, taller too I would say. A real handsome man you've become, dashing and charming, you are really something Adam Parrish."

Maybe it's the fact that Gansey too sees the improvements Ronan had taken the liberties to correct that bothers him. That the others must have seen them too, but chosen not to mention it to spare his feelings, to not make him feel inferior once again.

It makes his fingers twitch, makes him angry and touches upon parts of himself that reminds him too much of his father and a temper he doesn’t want to admit to having. He hates that they’re trying to decide what’s best for him, even now when none of them have actually done anything to make the shit-head go away.

 

“I need some air,” Adam says instead of doing something stupid like yelling and pushes his way through Gansey and Not-Adam to the door, his jaw clenching painfully. He finds his way to the small worn-down bench in front of the building and sits down.

He knows he’s not good enough for his friends, has known it ever since he bumped into Gansey the first time, and then again when he met Ronan; but to have it so blatantly acknowledge by the person he thought might just accept him as he is hurts more than he has over the last few months.

There’s someone coming down the stairs, and for a second Adam almost wishes it would be Not-Adam telling him to go home, saying that he’s got it from here and that they won’t be needing him anymore.

It would be so much easier that way; being forced out instead of just slowly falling apart before he finally wouldn’t even fit in with the group anymore. How much time he would have to spend finally prioritizing the way he should. It would be better this way, lonelier but more efficient in the long run. And isn’t that what his life is supposed to be?

It isn’t Not-Adam though, and maybe Adam knew all along who would come running, who always came whenever Adam needed it.

“Jesus Mary, Parrish. You can’t just run out like that.” Ronan groans out of breath and bent over holding his knees in tight fists. “Can I sit?” he asks when he’s finally gotten his breath back and doesn’t look on the verge of passing out.

“I don’t know, can you?” Adam mutters spitefully, but scoots his way to the left until there’s room for him on the bench.

There a silence between them when they finally settle, but it’s comfortable, familiar, not suffocating like the ones between him and his workmates or classmates who doesn’t understand Adam’s need for personal space. It’s different with Ronan, maybe because both of them seem to value company over mindless chatter, maybe it’s just the effect Ronan has on him. Whatever it is, Adam hates it right now.

“I get that you’re mad, okay?” Ronan starts out, his voice too aggressive for his face and the nervous fiddling with his bracelet. “I can see you hate him and the idea of me dreaming him up, but I’m trying alright? Gansey’s looking into whatever research he might find, he’ll be gone soon enough.”

Adam frowns but doesn’t speak.

“What I don’t get is why you hate him so much? Are you really that bothered by the idea of me dreaming about you?” he continues, his voice turning more bitter as he barks, “Would it be different if _Maggot_ had been the one to bring out another Adam?”

Adam doesn’t know when he realized Ronan was gay, whether it was a gradual discovery or if he just someday realized it and somehow repressed the lack of knowledge before then. Because Adam has always noticed the way Ronan’s eyes lingered just a bit longer on some of the more attractive boys at school, the appreciative stares badly disguised as scowls until it somehow transitioned into being focused solely onto Adam.

And while Adam doesn’t mind the crush, in fact he relished in the knowledge that someone like Ronan Lynch could think of him as attractive, as _worthy_ enough to have a crush on; he doesn’t know exactly know to convey that into words.

“That’s not. That’s not what’s bothering me.” He settles on, “I mean, the Blue kind of things.”

A beat goes by. “What?”

Adam takes a deep breath and turns to face him straight on. “I don’t mind the fact that you’ve been dreaming about me, even giving the intimate nature of your dreams if your flush is anything to judge by. What I do mind is the fact that you would have to change my appearance, my _personality_ just to make it fit into your dream-narrative.” His voice is louder now, angrier and crueler as he pushes to his feet to pace the small space in front of the bench. “If you haven’t noticed, that … _boy_ is nothing like me. He’s bigger and better, kinder and more out-going than me. He would probably even be smarter if you were stupid enough to bring him with you to school. So no Ronan, I don’t mind the fact that you’re gay, but I do very much mind the fact that I’m not good enough for you the way I am right now!”

For a while, neither of them says anything, the only thing audible being Adam’s heavy, angry breathing. And then Ronan starts to laugh, rich and hearty like Adam’s never heard before. It’s boisterous and filled with joy as he leans back against the building, one hand resting his stomach while the other covers his face.

But Adam’s never enjoyed laughter when he isn’t in on the joke, never mind in high pressure situations like these.

“Shut the fuck up.” He hisses angrily, but keeps himself rooted in hi spot. “This isn’t funny, alright. You dreamt a fucking clone of me, and now you’re laughing at me? Fuck you, Ronan!” He turns around and moves for his bike but a hand pulls him to a halt. He wrenches around ready to jerk his arm out of Ronan’s hold when he sees the soft look in his eyes. “What.” He bites unimpressed, but keeps himself in stasis waiting for whatever it is Ronan is trying to do.

 

Ronan blushes as he lets go of Adam’s arm and instead reaches for his hand, strong fingers sliding in between his until they’re intertwined. Ronan clears his throat, looking down at the ground before he finally looks up at Adam and says, “It’s not funny alright, I’m sorry for laughing, but it’s just. It’s, it _is_ ridiculous okay? But like, sometimes I have difficulty telling the difference between dream and reality.” He shrugs lightly, his entire body moving with the motion.

“Like, I know what you look like and shit, but you’re just so fucking great in my mind that I sometimes forget what’s real and what I made up, alright? Because everything fits the way I see you. So what if Not-Adam is taller than you? Fuck that. I like how tall you are, or like, not tall, I guess. He’s not an improvement of you, he’s just… _you_. Well, he’s not but you get what I’m saying, right?”

Adam frowns, but there’s something in whatever Ronan’s saying that sort of makes sense, at least from Ronan’s point of view. “But he’s not like me. I get the looks and shit, but he doesn’t even act like I would. He’s an _asshole_ _¸_ Lynch.”

“You’re an asshole too, Parrish.” Ronan argues but he’s smiling and Adam can feel his own lips tugging to reciprocate. “It kinda nice not being rejected in my own dreams though. And Not-Adam might be a jerk, but at least he’s not afraid to go after what he wants, you know?” it’s sad the way he says it, his voice soft and low, eyes pinned to the ground in efforts of not meeting Adam’s. But Adam gets that, gets that Ronan might want someone to do the pursuing so he wouldn’t have to put himself out there, afraid of falling without a safety net.

“You could have told me, though. I wouldn’t have rejected you,” Adam replies with a frown, tugging on Ronan’s hand until he finally looks back at him, “I won’t,” he repeats. And then Ronan leans down and presses his lips against Adam’s.

It’s a chaste kiss, soft lips and light pressure against his own as nervous hands moves from his hands and into his hair. There’s a low moan when Adam opens his mouth and allows his tongue to brush up against Ronan’s before softly biting his lip, his own hands resting on Ronan’s waist holding him close against his body.

It’s nothing like the few other kisses he’s had, nothing like the sloppy tongues and eager lips hungry for more he’s had before. There’s no insistent tugging at the end of his shirt or whining for it to go faster, nothing but hesitant touches and sweet noises from the back of Ronan’s throat as he deepens the kiss, guiding Ronan into a slow rhythm before allowing him to lead. It’s sweet, perfect, a great first kiss.

There’s a hickey on his throat and one of Ronan’s shaking hands underneath his shirt when they finally pull apart. Both of them out of breath as they refuse to let each other go but somehow still find their way back onto the bench.

“You called him Not-Adam.” Adam suddenly realizes, absentmindedly reaching out to brush a finger against the already swollen lip Ronan’s worrying with his teeth and getting a warm flush of his cheeks in return.

“That’s his name, isn’t it?” Ronan replies with sharp eyes, but he’s smirking and Adam’s other hand is still trapped in his.

“Yeah, Lynch. That it is.”

 

They finally decide to do something on a Sunday.

Noah’s appeared in the midst of madness to chuckle and point fingers whenever someone misidentifies an Adam. “They don’t even look the same,” he says, hovering behind Adam and staring at a spluttering Gansey who tried to get Not-Adam to proofread his Latin homework, “Isn’t it obvious?”

“There’s a window right there, Noah. Don’t make me use it.” Ronan bristles from the sofa, an asleep Chainsaw in his lap as his own eyes dozes from the lack of sleep in his efforts of getting rid of the clone.

Noah shrugs and moves towards Blue curled up in the chair and settles on the ground between her legs.

“Maybe we should try what I started by saying.” Adam sighs, pushing whatever textbooks that had been accumulating around him away to stretch his legs. “You pull him out of a dream, so why not try to stuff him back into one?”

Not-Adam makes an unimpressed noise and instead moves closer to Ronan.

“How would you do that Parrish?”

Adam frowns, “You have to sleep with him.” He says slowly as if it was obvious. “You bring him with you into the dream and then you let him go.”

“I’m not – uh,” Ronan stutters feverously, cheeks ablaze as he pushes away from Not-Adam, “I’m not going to _sleep_ with him, Parrish. That’s, no. I’m not doing that.”

Adam rolls his eyes audibly, briefly meeting Blue’s gaze before turning back to Ronan, “You only have to fall asleep with him, Lynch. I didn’t ask you to have sex with the clone.”

“Oh.”

“We totally could though, like I’m down if you are.” Not-Adam chimes in with a grin, familiar eyes too greedy as he looks at Ronan. But it doesn’t bother Adam as much anymore, so he just shrugs and reaches out a hand to help Ronan up from the couch.  

“Better get it over with, yeah?” he says softly as they move towards Ronan’s room, Not-Adam slow on their heels, stopping by Blue to tussle her hair before falling back into step with the other two.

Adam hasn’t spent a lot of time in Ronan’s room, they generally prefer St. Agnes or the living room at Monmouth, but it somehow fits him perfectly. There’s a bed pushed up in the corner taking up most of the room and a desk in front of the window with piles of shit leaving no spot empty. There’s clothes on the floor, and posters of people Adam’s never heard of on the walls. But then Ronan sits down on the bed and suddenly it all comes together, shades of black all complimenting him in the sparse light coming from the covered window.

“So what, we just lay down and sleep?” Ronan grunts out, and Adam hears the nervousness in his voice but there’s nothing he can do for him now.

“Yeah, I think so.” Adam nods slowly, taking a seat in the desk chair as the pair kick off their shoes and awkwardly crawl into the bed; Ronan careful not to touch Not-Adam or seem too eager, while the latter smirks at Adam before spooning up in front of Ronan.

“Like this you mean?” he says tauntingly, hands resting softly on Ronan’s arm reluctantly curling around his middle.

“ _Perfect_.” Adam returns, swiveling the chair so he’s no longer looking at them. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” He picks up what looks to be an inverse version of their Latin books and flicks through the pages.

It takes a while for the rustling to stop, Not-Adam’s small quips whenever Ronan turns and splutters, before it’s replaced with soft snores. Adam turns then and watches the pair perfectly aligned with each other, Ronan pressed against the wall and Not-Adam up against his back, hands somehow intertwined on Ronan’s chest as they breath in complete synchronization. They just fit in every way possible, and if just a fraction of that translates to him and Ronan, Adam thinks, it’s going to be alright.

Not-Adam disappears into nothing around the one-hour mark, leaving Ronan shivering alone in the bed.

“Shh, it’s okay Lynch. It’s alright,” he coos softly, sitting down on the side of the bed, one hand firm on his chest to keep him calm as the other struggles to get his shoes off. “Everything is going to be okay, you just keep sleeping.”

“Adam?” he slurs tiredly, turning to his side and looking up at him with blurred eyes. “Is it really you?”

“Yeah,” Adam says softly as he slides into the oddly cold spot Not-Adam had left. His arms wrapping around Ronan and pulling his head onto his chest, soft lips pressing kisses against his shaved head as Ronan’s eyes once again fall shut, “It’s really me.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @neil-jostx


End file.
